Hold On
by InfiniteFeather
Summary: "Survivor's guilt, they might say. But they didn't know that this was but a small piece of the mosaic." No matter how strong someone is, there's always a limit to how much they can take; how much they can bear before they crumble under the pressure. Annabeth and Percy have both been close to reaching theirs for a long time. "Percy," she repeated. "Please give me the knife."


**Trigger warning for suicidal themes.**

 **This was inspired partly by the song quoted below, partly by _emilyvidosa_ 's characterization of Percy on tumblr. ****A huge thanks to _SuperSeriousAuthor_ who betaed this and helped improve the story a lot. It wouldn't have been half as good without your help.**

 **I've included a play-list in the end notes if anyone is interested.**

 **Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything recognizable. The characters, setting etc. all belong to Rick Riordan and his publisher. I don't make any money from this (though I could certainly use it).**

* * *

 **"** ** _You gotta have the patience and believe you gotta make it. Gotta hold on. I know you_** ** _'re tired of surviving, but you gotta keep on trying. Gotta hold on_** **. _Hold on._** **"**

 **Hold on - _Nano_**

* * *

A small mountain of used camp shirts greeted her as Annabeth stepped into cabin three.

She sighed to herself and began checking under the unmade bunk beds, where she found a few lost socks, a dagger and no less than eight crushed cans of Pepsi, all of which she noted down on her scroll.

One of her boyfriend's less impressive gifts was to be able to give even cabin eleven a run for their money in turning their cabin into a trash can in a week.

And there were fourteen campers currently living in the Hermes cabin.

She ended her inspection and noted down her final score. Unless the Ares cabin had been repainting their walls with pig's blood again, her boyfriend would probably end up doing the dishes for another week.

Now, if he at least had the decency to stay in the cabin for the inspection as was the norm, she could at least have given him a few pointers, but she hadn't seen him since breakfast where he had been staring at his waffles. Not that this was anything new.

Percy was probably down on the beach; he had been staying there a lot the last few weeks, sitting with his feet in the surf, letting the waves wash over him and ignoring whatever chores or activities he should have been attending.

More often than not she would join him, and they would sit there, not talking but taking comfort in each other's presence. Sometimes she would take a book with her and lie on his lap, reading it aloud for him though she knew that he didn't listen too closely; content with playing with her hair, or the waves or just getting lost in his own thoughts. It was their way of escaping reality for a few hours.

Annabeth knew Chiron was well aware of this and yet the old centaur hadn't done anything to stop them. The sad looks he sent their way every time they walked by made it clear that he knew what they were doing. That he had seen the same wary expressions before; on other campers returning home after one quest or battle too many, sick of constantly risking their lives while knowing that this would be their fate for the rest of their lives, until one monster got a lucky shot and ended it for them. He knew what it meant and understood why they drew away from the crowds.

This didn't mean that he hadn't already pulled her aside more than once to quietly ask her to go see either Mr. D or one of the older Apollo-campers. While outside help from a mortal therapist would only send them to a closed facility, they still needed to talk to someone else about what they had gone through. They needed to process it properly so that they could finally move on; not forget it, but learn to accept it so they could get to really live again, not just surviving from day to day.

It wasn't healthy bottling it all up.

Even knowing all this she had declined again and again, even when his tone changed from suggestion to something more resembling an order. She was sure it was only a matter of time before he would force them to get help and yet she just couldn't get herself to reach out. She had always been able to work through her problems on her own, and later together with Percy. They had been a team since the quest for the master bolt; had always stood side by side no matter what the fates threw at them and they could get through this small set back as well.

Annabeth knew they could.

Until then she would continue to stand by his side, always. Even through this theatre of fake smiles they had built around themselves, as they repeated the line _I_ _'m fine_ until the words melted together and became meaningless. She would not leave him and he would not leave her. That was an unspoken rule.

She walked out, steeling herself for facing the outside world once more. Closing the door carefully behind her and shutting out the familiar sight and whatever memories associated with them, it was easy to slip on the practiced mask of indifference she had worn for months.

The last cabin on her list was cabin one, and finding it impeccable as always when Jason was staying over; his upbringing not allowing for anything less than perfect even if he had gotten a lot more lax after staying with the Greek camp, she met up with her fellow cabin-inspector, Malcom. He had taken all the even numbers and was just finishing up as well.

They compared their lists, ranked the cabins and gave out privileges and chores accordingly. Sure enough; Percy had earned the title of dish-washer once more.

Handing the papyrus scrolls to her half-brother so he could get them to Chiron, she set out to find her wayward boyfriend.

* * *

 _The grass was still wet under his bare feet, the first rays of sunshine reaching over the sand-dunes not quite warm enough yet to make it evaporate. It had been a cool night for the season and the temperature in the early morning was still enough to make goosebumps on his arms._

 _Reaching the surf, he let the waves lap playfully at his feet, yet they lacked the sense of comfort that usually accompanied them. Sending a wordless prayer to the deepest parts of the oceans that he knew already wouldn_ _'t be answered. He still hoped for something._

 _Anything._

 _He stood staring blankly at the horizon for much longer than his easily distracted brain should have allowed him to, until a horn sounded in the distance and his growling stomach forced him back to get some breakfast._

 _Emptiness replaced the usual feeling of disappointment, though he couldn_ _'t get himself to care._

 _Most of his breakfast ended up turning into smoke, and what little he managed to swallow tasted of less than the ashes left behind. They called it a sacrifice._

 _What did they know about sacrifice?_

* * *

When his mother had first married Gabe, Percy would sometimes hide in the closet for hours. He would make it a game to sneak past his stepfather's poker table and into his room without being seen and then hide until his mom got home. He had felt safe in the tiny dark corner, curled up behind a few of his mom's old coats from before Percy had been born, sure that Gabe would never have the idea to look for him there. Or at least not care enough to look for him at all.

Until one day he did, after several lost poker games and some spilled chocolate milk on the kitchen table that Percy had forgotten to clean in his haste to get back to his hiding place, and Percy's safe haven was gone for good.

The tiny closet had gone from protecting him in its dark embrace to cutting off all possible ways of escape.

Gabe had been pissed, and he had to wear long-sleeved clothing for the rest of the week so no one noticed his bruised arms.

They said you should never cry over spilled milk, but he had cried then, silently, until his mom got home when he dried his eyes and tried to put on his best brave smile. Gabe had threatened to do a lot more should he tell, and he had been both scared of what that meant and if his step-father would hurt his mom too, should she stand up for him.

His mom hadn't bought his fake cheerfulness for even a second. Instead she had taken him on her lap and stroked his hair while he talked, and hadn't even commented on the tears streaming down his face once again, only dabbed the raw skin around his eyes with a damp rag. It was the first time he had told his mother a lie.

Afterwards, Percy tried to avoid tiny dark spaces.

It didn't get any better after several elevator-rides towards life-threatening situations on his first quest.

* * *

Percy wasn't at the pegasus stables.

Of course he wasn't; when did he ever make it easy for her?

She had met Chiron on the way, and when asked the centaur said he hadn't seen Percy either but then warned her not to worry in the next sentence. But how could she not? Percy was missing. Again. It wasn't like him to just wander off. She had a bad feeling about all this.

 _What if he had stumbled into trouble? What if he was out there, somewhere, slowly bleeding out or dying of some incurable poison?_ It wouldn't be the first time.

Blackjack was currently pestering one of the new campers for sugar, so Percy hadn't decided to take a trip home to visit his mom and Paul. Though, even if there had been an emergency he would usually have told her or Chiron that he was leaving first. She asked some of the campers cleaning the stables to be sure, but none of them had seen Percy since breakfast.

He hadn't been at the lake, the climbing wall or at the beach either. She had walked through the dunes and followed the coast all the way to the barriers that surrounded camp, all the while shouting his name.

No one answered.

When the nightmares were at their worst and his eyes dull and red at the edges after another sleepless night, he often went out and sat on the bottom of the ocean floor. Deep enough that the water completely covered his head, but never far enough that she wouldn't be able to find him. It was an unspoken promise that they were always able to find each other when they needed it. And they needed it more often than not. Going so far that he practically followed her when she went through her daily activity schedule and ignored his own.

But she couldn't find him now.

 _Please_ , she thought, _help me find him._

She wasn't sure who she was praying to. The gods were unlikely to help and the fates had already shown that they wouldn't make their lives easy. Mercy wasn't in their vocabulary. More likely than not, whatever had happened was their fault.

 _I_ _'m not sure what I will do, should something have happened to him._ This might have been hard to admit years ago; that she needed someone else. Percy was an exception though. Around him she didn't feel the same need to prove herself all the time; she knew he accepted her as she was. He gladly admitted that he didn't share her interest for reading or architecture and wasn't ashamed that she could beat him in a knife-fight. He drove her to become better and stood by her side when she failed. He might be her boyfriend, but first and foremost he was her _best_ friend.

It was naive to think nothing would happen to them again; they were demigods, it was a given. It didn't stop her from hoping. _Why did this always happen to them? Couldn_ _'t they get a break for once?_

Their wounds might have healed, but they were not yet completely recovered. Maybe they never would be.

Jason and Piper were walking out from the arena. Sweat was glinting on their bare arms and stuck their hair to their smiling faces. They were out of their armor, though Piper was still holding a dagger in her left hand and Jason had an imperial gold sword strapped at his waist; they were probably on their way to clean them in the armory.

They were laughing about something or another when she stopped them, but they quickly turned serious as soon as she met their gazes. All demigods had good instincts for knowing when something was wrong.

"Percy's missing. Have you seen him?" She asked.

She didn't need to say anything else. A few moments later they had gotten some nymphs and satyrs to search the fields and hills surrounding the camp, hopefully also spreading the news in the process. If Percy had somehow avoided her during her search and was still somewhere in the camp, he would be found quickly.

Annabeth send a thought towards Grover, wishing the new Lord of the Wild would have been here to help.

Instead the three demigods went to the forest alone to search for their friend.

* * *

 _He grabbed a dagger from the forge on a whim._

 _Steam from the water basins and smoke from the fires covered the action. Not that the campers took the time to look up from their various weapons and projects to notice him there._

 _Twirling his new blade between his fingers he followed the path towards the forest. A few campers greeted him on the way and he gave them a practiced smile while he contemplated sending an IM to Tyson in the evening. His brother had been rather quiet as of late; he hadn't heard anything from him at all the last month. He was probably busy with his apprenticeship. Maybe it was better not to bother him._

 _Twigs and damp earth gradually replaced the soft grass of the fields, filling the air with the heavy smell of decomposing leaves. The thick foliage acted as a sound barrier, drowning out all sounds from the camp as soon as he had gotten a few steps inside the forest. He veered off the path._

 _A single blackbird sang high up in a tree somewhere beyond his sight._

 _His hand brushed a small branch, ripping the last few leaves off. He slowly crushed them between his fingers before sprinkling the pieces into the air and watched as they danced in the air like green snow-flakes. Completely forgetting that such an act could anger a nymph._

 _He walked with no direction in mind, but when he came across a small stream winding its way through the underbrush, an old willow reaching across its bank, he knew he had arrived at his destination._

* * *

It became a game for Percy to guess how the principal was from how the school was run. Were the classrooms clean or cluttered? Were the teachers lazy, tolerant, strict or a combination? How many conversations did he get with the school counselor before he was deemed a lost cause?

He would guess and then when (it was never a question of _if_ ) he was sent to their office, he would use the time there distracting himself from the lecture by comparing his findings with the actual person. It helped him control the anger that usually threatened to flood him when the principal droned on about what could essentially be boiled down to 'you're not good enough'.

Of course there were principals who tried to help him, not all turned to shouting on his first misdemeanor. They all gave up eventually though; apparently he was good at testing the patience of even the best.

 _He would have to disagree with that. Both his mother and Paul hadn_ _'t given up yet, though he couldn't understand how or why. He was a lost cause._

Once, one even asked if he was well at home. He had come up with an especially snarky reply to throw him off the case, though he hadn't been sure it had completely worked. The next day he had _accidentally_ gotten into a fight with an older student, who had been bullying one of his class mates, where one lucky hit had broken the bully's nose. Since this was his third fight that semester, he had been kicked out of the school.

It had only been the start of May.

His mother had kept him home that month, and then sent him to summer school for three months until he could start in a military boarding school that had agreed to take him in despite his rep sheet. He hadn't even complained; just mentally beat himself up for once again disappointing her, even if she never said as much.

Gabe had laughed when even this school wouldn't let him back for another year. Apparently, they didn't have the funds to deal with the 'likes of him'. (How could he have known that the war cannon was loaded?) He had never been good at following orders so he didn't see this as a big loss.

His step-father had been as another opinion.

"What are you looking at eh, Brainboy?" He had sneered as soon as Sally had left for work. "You're not working for the food on the table, always lazing around. If it wasn't for your mother ... You should be kissing my feet for letting you stay in my house."

Percy had muttered something about 'rather wanting to lick the floors of the school toilet' and had nearly been hit in the head by a beer bottle. Due to Gabe's horrible aim he escaped with a few glass cuts on the cheek and shoulder.

 _Brainboy_ became his most hated nickname. It reminded him of the fact that he had never been good enough. Each time he got kicked from a school it was like someone had knocked him over the head with a hammer, like he was a peg getting beaten into the ground. Sometimes he wondered how long it would take before he completely disappeared into the crust of the earth.

 _Might even be easier for everyone._

It was when he met Annabeth that he began to believe that he might not be stupid. That might have _sounded_ stupid, because he could never measure up to her intellect and _Seaweed Brain_ hardly sounded like a compliment.

Still, it was on their first quest together that he really discovered his flair for improvisation. He listened to her advice, he would gladly admit that, and outsmarted both Ares and Procrustes. Annabeth teased him with his lack of knowledge of the Greek Pantheon and his tendency for being rather obvious at times, but she never made him feel like the useless disappointment Gabe had. He knew she appreciated his input when they led their team in Capture the Flag, even if she didn't much approve of his recklessness in battle. That she saw through his mask of sarcasm and badly timed jokes and loved him for _him_ ; both his good and bad sides.

Each fight he survived made him feel like he proved that he wasn't worthless; each life he saved made him feel like it was worth something.

Until it wasn't enough. Until everything became too much.

* * *

They had barely stepped into the forest when a tree nymph blocked the way. Her rind-like skin was the light green of new beech leaves and she had a dandelion sticking out of her brown hair, still with its leaves and roots intact. The nymph began waving around with her arms and scolded them about property damage and appropriate behavior in nature, but Annabeth didn't listen. She would normally have felt bad for leaving her friends behind to calm the nymph down with apologies and promises, but she couldn't care less about that at the moment.

Percy was missing and she felt restless. They needed to hurry instead of wasting time on unimportant pleasantries.

Annabeth had managed to maneuver around the nymph, when some of her words managed to catch her attention.

"What did you say?" Annabeth said, interrupting the nymph's tirade.

The tree spirit whirled around to face her. Her green eyes were just as intense as the gaze of the Oracle and at any other day Annabeth would have been impressed. "I said that you demigods are all the same; trampling through the forest with not a care for who lives there. That son of Poseidon just ripped off some of my leaves and now you come here, swinging around weapons and _crushing_ my saplings –"

She interrupted the nymph again. "Percy was here?" She matched the nymph's gaze with a death glare of her own, and the spirit seemed a bit miffed though she answered without complaint.

"Yes, like I said: he just came by. Now -"

Knowing that tree-spirits had a different perception of time and that _just came by_ could mean hours in reality she didn't let the nymph finish before turning back around. She had managed to walk several steps, her friends right behind her, when the nymph shouted after them, "Tell him that I expect an apology and that he better be sincere about it, or I will _make_ him mean it!"

She didn't listen. Her gaze caught some crushed scrub to the side of the path and went over to take a closer look. The earth had dried since the morning dew had fallen, and was now barely damp, showing slight indentions where something large had walked past.

 _Too big for a deer. Could be a monster._

 _Or Percy._

It wasn't possible to make out the exact shape of the prints, but there were no claw marks, so she deemed the probability of it being Percy's pretty high. And as they hadn't met anyone or anything on their short trek yet besides the nymph, she came to the conclusion that he must have been moving away from the path instead of towards it.

She focused on following the barely visible tracks instead of the mantra of _not again, please not again_ that was running through her head. Someone called out behind her and she was sure it was her name. She ignored it and began to run, careful to keep one eye on the path should it change direction.

Knowing Percy, it was unlikely. To him it was mostly act and react; careful planning wasn't his thing. Maybe because most battle plans went wrong before they could be carried out, especially when you were a demigod. She still preferred looking at all possibilities and probabilities of success when possible, though she recognized that sometimes this wasn't an option. His ability to adapt to a new situation in a second, to read his surrounding and change his next action accordingly was one she admired him for.

It sometimes made him rather predictable outside of battle though, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, only on days like these when he wasn't acting as usual and everything became all the more nerve wracking.

 _Please let him be safe._

* * *

 _The dagger was rather plain looking. No engravings or muster, just raw celestial bronze glinting in the sunlight shining though the canopy. He flipped it over in his hand and tested the edge on his thumb. Sharp._

 _He dipped his finger into the cold water and watched as the small cut closed up. The water's cool presence swept over him, cleared his head though his thoughts were still weighing him down. He pulled his hand out of the stream and swallowed around a lump in his throat._

 _A deep breath of pine and earth, then the metal rested on his skin once more. Hesitation. Could he?_

 _He knew people would miss him, would morn him. He wasn't lonely or even depressed. He felt guilty. And afraid._

 _Guilty because he was alive when they weren't. Guilty because he wasn_ _'t strong enough to just pull himself together and get through it like everyone else._

 _Afraid of tomorrow. Afraid of the future. Of himself._

 _Every night he was visited by whispers of the past. He couldn_ _'t remember when he had last had a dreamless sleep. He was past the brink of exhaustion, it had become permanently ingrained in his bones that creaked and groaned every time he moved. It was a wonder he got up at all because he had long lost the will to rise, even if sleep was even worse. The bronze was cold against his skin._

 _They always called him selfless. Could he prove them wrong?_

 _Didn't he deserve to be selfish, just this once?_

 _It hurt, but not physically. Deep inside where no water could reach to heal him._

* * *

As the years went by the destruction of his small pockets of peace and quiet became the norm. The feeling of security that only one's home can give you, dreamless nights of deep sleep became scarce then extinct. Until they only remained as warm, half-forgotten memories of something of the past; their bright colors slowly fading as the years went by, like a favorite sweatshirt after one wash too many.

Gabe, bullies, principals, monsters, gods.

They might have stolen everything from him; slowly ripping him to pieces with their slurs, taunts and demands until he couldn't even recognize himself in the mirror; because the shell of a person that was left was barely alive and didn't resemble him at all.

But none of that mattered, because he was never living for himself in the first place. His mother, his friends, Annabeth; they were his real family and they had done so much for him that whatever little help he could give back to them was worth the pain of several trips into Tartarus and back.

And he wanted to go on; walk that extra mile for them. Again.

He really did.

He just couldn't.

Every time they succeeded in something: finding the bolt, retrieving the fleece, defeating Kronos; for every quest, every mission, every _war_ they got through, there was always a price much too high.

So many people were lost, good people; better than him.

Bianca, Zoe, Beckendorf.

Even Silena, Nakamura and Luke ended up doing the right thing in the end. And yet they died and he _didn't_.

The fates were cruel like that, and he began to believe that this was his punishment: he would survive with the guilt, while people continued to die around him.

What worse curse for someone whose fatal flaw was personal loyalty?

Would it ever stop?

Athena had been right; he would probably give everything to make sure Annabeth survived - wouldn't even hesitate. What would his life be worth without her to center him? She was the one who kept him from making foolish decisions (most times anyway). She was the one keeping him connected to his mortality. The one who kept him from going _too far_.

Because that was one of the things he was most afraid of; going too far. Crossing that invisible line that he was currently walking. He found that when it was all or nothing he forgot that the line existed. Forgot its importance. And he knew there was no going back if he truly crossed it one day.

Or no, that wasn't quite true. What really scared him was that wouldn't _hesitate to go too far_ , to cross that line. Not if it meant saving someone he loved.

How far until he became one of the very monsters that was always hunting him?

Personally, he thought he was close.

It had been haunting him for a long time, since Gabe first showed his true face; crawling closer and surrounding him even as he tried to push it back. Every day he could feel the pull, like when he stood at the edge of Tartarus and the abyss tried to drag him in.

One day soon he would lose his balance, stumble –

 _Slip._

Fall.

* * *

When she heard the soft gurgling of a nearby creek, she slowed down to a fast walk, confident that this was likely the place Percy would be and unwilling to show him how nervous she was. The whole way there she had been so sure that something was wrong, but now that she had arrived she was starting to doubt herself again. _Maybe he just went out to hide from his archery lesson with Chiron. He rarely follows his time table as it is, and he did say that teaching him archery is a lost cause._

Chiron _had_ told her not to worry. Was she creating a problem where there wasn't one? It wasn't like he wasn't allowed to do something on his own without telling someone. Was she overreacting?

An image of him staring blankly into the air at breakfast, not eating more than a few bites of bread, flashed through her mind and she dismissed her doubts. This had to be something else. And if she, against her expectation, should be wrong; then she had at least found him and soothed her own worries.

Maybe he had had another nightmare? He often sought to be alone then; refusing to talk to anyone about them, even her, though she always shared her own. She knew they were bad; filled with even worse things than the death and destruction that plagued her, though only because she had heard him murmur in his sleep. Some nights she woke because he was screaming, trapped in another night terror. She never blamed him; she would gladly wake every night if there was just a small chance she could help him get better.

If she could just convince him of this as well so he didn't blame himself.

For how open he seemed, Percy was actually a pretty private person, preferring to talk about everyone but himself.

She knew less about his childhood than he had about hers after their first quest, and what she _did_ know was one part from reading the papers after their first trip across the country and three parts things she had figured out herself from casual words and random silences whenever certain topics were brought up.

If he had come out here to be alone, she could respect that. There were things she kept to herself as well. Dark thoughts that crawled out of their cages at night and haunted her. Names that gave her the bitter taste of regret on her tongue until she drove them away by throwing herself into even more work and she forgot about it again.

Either way it would be best not to surprise him. They were all rather _jumpy_ , especially after the war.

The forest opened up to the creek, and it didn't take her long to spot Percy sitting under an old willow tree a bit further upstream. His feet were bare and dangled just over the surface of the fast-flowing water; he always felt calmer closer to his father's element. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy and hit his skin as golden flecks in a random pattern.

It looked like a picture of true serenity; just as it was shown in movies. And like with movies there was something uncanny with it all. The details were too sharp; the colors too bright.

For once his body was relaxed and his expression calm; a small smile gracing his lips, though a slight frown revealed a slight melancholy that she had never seen before.

 _That's not quite true_ , Annabeth thought. _He looks like that when he thinks no one's looking._

Something was not right with that picture.

It was too quiet, too still. Percy was never that still.

She stopped a few feet away from him. He was playing with something in his hands, the angle she stood at prevented her from seeing what it was.

"Percy?" She asked, her voice close to a whisper and yet it disturbed the peace just as much as if she had shouted. Percy didn't react.

Percy always reacted to his name, and she had to admit that he had good instincts, so actually sneaking up to him wasn't all that easy. Either he knew they were there and was ignoring them, or something was seriously wrong.

Something heavy settled in her stomach.

By now the others had fully caught up to her.

"Hey Percy, there you are. We've been looking for you," Jason greeted the son of Poseidon in a faux-cheerful voice that cracked slightly at the end. The heavy feeling in her stomach was now slowly traveling up towards her throat and she had to swallow to keep it down.

Percy still didn't so much as twitch to acknowledge their presence.

Unable to stay still any longer, Annabeth started to walk. She kept her steps slow, but not soundless, so he would be able to hear her coming. The last thing she wanted was to startle him. Every step closer made the feeling of wrongness increase and her breathing began to speed up, until she finally stood in front of him and could see what he was doing.

Her already quick heartbeat increased and her breath became short puffs of air as she forced it into her lungs.

"Percy," she forced out of a throat that suddenly felt too narrow for even air to get through. She swallowed again. It hurt, and didn't help at all.

* * *

 _The racket of twigs breaking and leaves rustling startled him as something large shook one of the tree tops to the right of him. He lost his grip on the blade and a deep gash appeared on his wrist._

 _A fat dove took off from the tree and flew over his head. A few crows scolded it with hoarse voices as it disappeared from his sight._

* * *

Normally, she wouldn't have blinked at her boyfriend holding a sharp knife; every child at Camp knew how to handle one and Percy had plenty of practice using them, even if he preferred swords over knives. _This_ was far from normal though. In fact, it couldn't get much further from normal, and this was coming from someone who considered monster attacks as a part of everyday life.

For once she cursed her demigod abilities because they enabled her to take in hundreds of details in the time it took her to draw in air for a soundless gasp.

The white pebbles at his feet were covered in dark coagulating blood, an indication that the wound had been inflicted at least a few minutes ago, and that he hadn't moved since. New drops were joining the stain every few seconds.

Percy was holding a bronze knife loosely in his left hand, resting it on his knee. She didn't recognize the weapon, but there were plenty of places in Camp where he could have gotten such a weapon, and people would have had no reason to question him about taking it.

Its blade was clean; very sharp then, as the wound had to be inflicted quickly for it to remain that way.

His glazed eyes were focused entirely on the blood trickling sluggishly down his left arm. Oblivious to his surroundings then, not ignoring them. But why wasn't he doing anything to stop the bleeding? The stream was _right_ there. She couldn't see if the wound was deep or not; she would need a closer look to determine if it was life threatening, to calculate the risks and -

And her thoughts stopped at, _Oh gods, am I going to lose him?_

The world should be swimming in red and greens as panic dug its claws in her and yet the details remained sharp and real.

"Percy," she repeated. "Please give me the knife."

The words finally snapped him out of his trance and he looked up, blinking a few times as if he was just waking up. His eyebrows went up when he saw them, before frowning in confusion as if he wasn't sure why they were there. "Huh?"

She was unable to say anything more, the neural connection between her mouth and brain somehow broken. Instead she held his gaze until his eyes slowly cleared from their fog and filled with recognition.

"Oh," he said, and blinked before looking down, brow narrowing for a second at the sight of the knife and the blood, before he snapped his gaze back up and let it wander over her left shoulder.

"This – this isn't …" Percy stuttered, but didn't try to continue. His voice sounded small and uncertain, and she wanted to reach out to pull him close and run far away without a backwards glance at the same time.

She didn't do either; her body remained frozen.

* * *

 _Deep red bubbled up and ran down down his arm in small streams, much like the creek he was sitting beside, only to dribble further down. Dark stains soon decorated the legs of his pants and the small white stones below him._

 _He felt a little light headed as he watched; fascinated and weirdly detached. As if it wasn't really happening to him._

 _The wound burned_

* * *

Jason didn't seem to have the same problem.

"Percy, buddy, it's fine. Just-" Jason stopped as his voice cracked again. "Just drop the knife."

The new voice must have startled him, because before Annabeth could react, Percy had jumped to his feet and began to slowly back away from them, knife still clutched in his right hand. His arms were spread to the sides, left palm facing them as if to ward them off. His back was slightly bent as he crouched before them, the knife pointed in their general direction, without a specific target, while his wide eyes flitted from one person to the next.

He reminded Annabeth of a deer about to bolt.

"No no, this isn't – You don't-" Percy began to mutter to himself. He looked so small and frightened, and she was reminded of how young he still was; how young they all were. It was easy to forget when you were fighting for your life.

The sudden movement got her back to herself, and she tried to interrupt him. To get him to focus. _If she could just could get him to focus, to calm down._

"Percy -"

Percy frowned, as if he had only just realized that something was wrong with the situation. "What- What are you guys doing here?"

* * *

 _By the will of the fates the blade had not nicked any arteries, and while it bled a lot it would not be life-threatening in any way for a while yet._

 _Survivor's guilt, they might say._

 _But they didn't know that this was but a small piece of the mosaic._

* * *

Annabeth's eyes widened. She didn't like how surprised he sounded.

"Looking for you!" She said, abandoning any illusion of calm for a moment and letting her desperation show. "No one knew where you've been for the last three hours."

 _Did you not think we would be worried? That we would notice and come looking?_

 _We would always notice. Right?_ She wasn't so sure anymore and suddenly wondered what else they could have missed. The fear of failure it brought with it settled deep into her soul. Because what else had _she_ missed _?_

She was the daughter of Athena; she wasn't supposed to be the oblivious one. She was supposed to see things others ignored.

So why didn't she see _this_?

Annabeth clenched her fists so her hands didn't shake as adrenalin filled her body. All her muscles were tensed, ready for her to sprint for safety. Running away would have been the easy decision; she had done it once before when she ran from home at seven. Life was rarely that easy, and she knew if she ran now she would lose something much more precious than her own life.

She would not be able to forgive herself if she couldn't save this; save _him_.

Percy's frown didn't lessen, and his grip on the blade didn't loosen.

"It doesn't matter," Annabeth quickly said before he could sink into another daze, "Just drop the knife and we'll go back. We should be just in time for lunch." The promise felt flat and empty, and no matter how much she tried she couldn't keep her tone light.

Percy didn't seem to notice. He didn't even look like he was still aware of their presence as he began to mutter to himself again. "- shouldn't be here. Shouldn't worry … Wrong."

He grabbed the blade with the left hand as well, not aware or not caring about it cutting into his fingers. New blood joined the old that had already dried and was now peeling off in small red flakes, like old paint.

She tried to stifle a cry, and instead turned it into something very much like a dry sob.

* * *

 _He removed the blade completely from his arm and rested it on his right knee, yet made no move to bind the wound. No hurry. He could wash it all away whenever he liked._

 _The wound continued to burn and he let it._

* * *

 _You need to calm down._ Annabeth tried, she really did, and yet her heartbeat didn't slow down and the air wouldn't quite reach into her lungs as it was supposed to. Was she panicking?

 _Percy needs you._ She tried to take in a large breath. It got stuck halfway and she had to bent slightly to cough, while trying to keep looking at Percy with watering eyes, afraid he would disappear if she shut them.

Of all the times in the past where she could have broken down, this was the situation where she couldn't pull herself together enough to help? The truth was that while she was used to stressing situations they were usually not the emotional kind. Throw her an academic test and she would ace it. Show her a battle plan and she could point out any mistakes others had missed. Give her a monster to fight and her body would act on its own to kill it.

The problem arose when emotions were thrown into the mix; she could risk her life in the heat of battle without a second thought, but confrontations? Those had always been hard for her, starting with her step-mother and following up with every time they met Luke during the war; she just couldn't keep her mind focused on the problem enough to think clearly.

 _Just stay calm and think!_

In the end she was powerless against her own emotions, and she hated herself for it because she was supposed to be _better than this_.

Percy's last desperate act seemed to have been enough negotiation for Piper. "Calm down!" She shouted, voice infused with charm-speak, and Annabeth felt her own breathing slow and thoughts clear a little, though the words hadn't been directed towards her.

"Percy," Piper continued in a stern voice still heavily infusing the words. " _Drop the knife._ "

The words were an order and should have made the son of Poseidon obey instantly, and yet he somehow resisted completely dropping the weapon, only releasing the blade with his left hand, and actually clutching the shaft harder with the right.

He took a step back, shaking his head while muttering, " _no no no_ ", nearly tripping over the roots of the willow in the process, and yet keeping his gaze glued to them.

* * *

 _Would this have counted as defecting? Mark him as a traitor and gotten him stuck in the Fields of Asphodel or worse?_

 _Against a monster they would have called it a heroic sacrifice. But this was a different kind of fight, one where the enemy was invisible; there could be no clear victory, only endurance or defeat._

 _In this fight no godly powers and no cunning planning would help him; only the firm resolve to overcome this as well._

 _And he could feel that resolve crumbling like the walls of an ancient temple._

* * *

"Percy!" Piper shouted, tone now desperate. "Drop it!"

The magic infused in the words was as strong as when she had tried talking Gaea to sleep, and Annabeth actually stumbled back, instinctually trying to drop a weapon she didn't even have in the first place.

The son of Poseidon dropped his knife.

* * *

 _In the end it didn't matter; he was too much of a coward to find out._

* * *

Jason must have resisted the charm-speak better than her, because while she was still reeling and trying to pull herself together, he jumped at the black-haired youth.

Percy's eyes widened in horror and he gave an animalistic screech like nothing Annabeth had heard before, this time actually tripping over the root as the son of Jupiter rammed into him and they both ended up tumbling to the ground, where they became a mess of limbs as Jason tried to restrain the other boy.

Annabeth watched the fight with a slight detachment, her thoughts running around in one big mess; one part of her mind trying to calculate how to proceed; getting to Chiron and Dionysus was the logical first step, then maybe contacting Percy's parents. _Gods, Sally. What would she say to this? She had only just gotten him home again._ The other part was trying to keep her feelings in check while adrenalin still made her body work in overdrive.

Percy was now lying flat on his back, and Jason was straining to keep him there. Piper was still speaking, and maybe Jason was as well. The words were all just meaningless sounds that her mind could no longer comprehend.

She was sure she was supposed to help. Supposed to stand beside Jason and Piper and be the one trying to calm him down. Squeeze his hand and hold him close, until he believed in her when she told him they could be alright, just liked she had done so many times before. When did she stop believing that herself?

One step forward and her legs nearly gave out. The ground felt unsteady. Red obscured her eyesight, ran down her vision like red paint or -

She couldn't.

Tears blurred her sight and she let faceless hands guide her to the ground, where she threw her arms around her legs and buried her head in them.

They had known that they weren't invincible, had been reminded of the fact again and again, and yet they had still thought themselves strong enough to deal with this on their own. _She_ had thought them strong enough.

Annabeth never liked being wrong. In fact, she hated it. This time her pride had nearly cost her everything.

She hated that even more.

They weren't alone, had never been. She knew that. She had _known_ that. The meaning hadn't fully registered before now.

The warm hand on her shoulder didn't leave.

And they didn't have to go through all this alone, if they just let others in. It sounded so easy.

She let loose a sob, for once not caring who was watching her moment of weakness.

 _It's alright. It's okay._

It wasn't. Not at all. But maybe they could still get there.

* * *

 **Always ask for help. No problems are too small or too big not to share with someone you trust.**

 **Constructive criticism is always welcome. I write to improve.**

 **Playlist:**

 **Hold on** **–** **_Nano_**

 **No Light, No Light – _Florence + The Machine_**

 **Demons – _Imagine Dragons_**

 **Leave a Light On – _Tom Walker_**

 **Safe – _Nico Santos_**

 **Fix You – _Coldplay_**


End file.
